


When the Seasons Change

by Magefeathers



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, References to Abuse, Seasonal Symbolism, Vague Ray Route Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 16:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magefeathers/pseuds/Magefeathers
Summary: Written for Saeran Week 2018 on tumblr. Day one prompt: Seasons.Saeran reflects on how the seasons of his life have unfolded.





	When the Seasons Change

**Author's Note:**

> Quick disclaimer! I haven't actually finished Ray's route yet! I'm on day 9 as of today, but this little thing pretty much wrote itself. I have read Saeran's diary from the special believer package and I've seen a few hints of spoilers here and there, so I know a little bit more than what's been given to me en route so far, but I don't know The Whole Ending. Hopefully that doesn't negatively affect this work in any way, however. OTL
> 
> The title for this work was taken from the song of the same title by Five Finger Death Punch.
> 
>  
> 
> _I won't let you down_   
>  _When the seasons change_   
>  _I won't go down_   
>  _I'll fight through the pain_   
>  _I'll be there right by your side_   
>  _I'll never let them bring you down_   
>  _When the seasons change_

Youth is meant to be the springtime of one’s life. That’s what all the stories say; all the books and all the films, with their symbolism and their allegory. With spring came births and rebirths, fresh starts, new beginnings, resurrection - above all, hope. In young adulthood came summer, everything heated and hazy and passionate, energy abounding, granting one the vitality to make it through the long, scorching summer days. Middle age approached autumn, the season of harvest; reaping the benefits of the seeds you’d sown throughout spring and summer, counting your blessings from seasons past, even as the fatigue settles heavy in your bones, reminding you what comes next: winter. Old age and death, the season of hopelessness, worry, anxiety, despair.

Saeran’s eyes strain to make out patterns in the stucco texture of the darkened ceiling, his mind unable to rest. It would seem the seasons of his life had gone backwards somehow, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed to live through it all.

His childhood was the barren winter, dark and desperate, cold and uncaring. His mother’s screams were the frozen storms that blotted out all warmth, all light, leaving everything familiar and friendly buried under a thick snowfall of insults and threats. All the blizzard ever left in its wake was the hopeless feeling that the warmth of the sun might never return.

Of course, even the darkest of winters have their moments of sunshine. Back then, Saeran had had Saeyoung with him. Saeyoung was the sound of delighted children playing in the fresh snowfall, building snowmen and making snow angels, ignoring the cold in favor of making the best of the season life had found them in. Saeyoung was the hot mug of cocoa that warmed your bones and made the cold weather bearable.

Until he disappeared, and Saeran felt the blizzard would overtake him.

Then V and Rika came into his life, and the blizzard died down, but snow still surrounded him. Now he was able to leave the house on his own, attend classes and mass at the cathedral, was even given authority over the small flower garden out in front of the church, and it felt as though all the dead and withered leaves in his world were floating back up from where they had fallen, trampled and buried beneath the snow, and returning to their homes in the trees. The leaves were still faded, frail, barely hanging on, but they were  _ there _ , clinging to the branches for dear life, and the sight gave him hope for the first time.

The autumnal harvest came in the form of his time at Magenta - or so he’d thought, at the time. Once he’d been cleansed and accepted his place among the ranks of the Mint Eye, Saeran truly believed that the paradise Magenta provided him was a boon from God, recompense for all the suffering he had endured so far. Every day he spent there was spent counting his blessings, pouring gratitude for his Savior as though it were a sweet wine for her to savor. All the while, however, he felt the chill at his back; that icy northern wind that reminds you mid-fall that winter isn’t all that far away. As thankful as he was for the hint of warmth that autumn had provided him, Saeran knew that under any pile of leaves he passed there could be a patch of black ice waiting to slip him up - and if he slid, he’d slide right back into the snow drift he’d just been pulled out of.

Thinking back on it now, his Magenta days had probably been winter for him as well. They say that in the final stages of hypothermia, one begins to imagine that they’re warm.

But then you came into his life, and everything became a little bit brighter, a little bit warmer. Your smile, your scent, the sound of your voice all banded together to ward off the chill of autumn, making way for summer’s warmth. At times the heat was almost unbearable to Saeran, as all he had known before you was the cold; yet he sought out your warmth much in the same way snakes will seek the heat of the blacktop - with no regard for the oncoming traffic. His cleansing was the cargo truck that made roadkill of his innocent pursuit.

Love isn’t the only heated emotion; rage and hatred burn just as hot. Once your love had introduced the fire to his cold blood, it had been easy for his Savior to stoke those flames on kindlings of much more insidious feelings. His insecurity, his self loathing, his fear all boiled over, scorching him from the inside out, threatening to burn him to the ground while you were tied to the pyre. Your love remained a steady, stable heat, welcoming even in the midst of the wildfire of Saeran’s mind. The wildfire knew it was too unstable to keep burning forever, but once he had tasted the sweet and fiery heat of summer’s love Saeran knew that the familiar yet frigid chill of autumn would never truly satisfy him again. Relying on your steady warmth was the only way for him to keep moving forward.

Saeran blinks against the darkness, his eyes shifting away from their examination of the ceiling in favor of gazing upon your face, peaceful as you sleep beside him in the bed you now share. Escaping Magenta and exposing Mint Eye had been the dawning of the springtime of Saeran’s life. He felt renewed, he felt reborn. He felt like a child, not the childhood he had experienced, but the way childhood was meant to be - bright and inviting and hopeful, each day offering new surprises, new experiences, and he can’t wait to uncover each and every one of them, knowing that you will be by his side every step of the way. 

He knows he is still young, and - God willing - will have many more seasons to come in his life. The first thing he knows he needs to do in order to truly enjoy and appreciate the beautiful, bountiful season unfolding around him is to find Saeyoung. But for now, he can look back on his life, and all the struggles he’s been through, and confidently say that if he could survive all that and still come out on top, there was surely nothing left for life to throw at him that he couldn’t overcome.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment to let me know! I love interacting with readers! Also, make sure you check out the blog @saeranchoiweek on tumblr to see all the participants' entries! There's a lot of awesome stuff already!


End file.
